


As Fate Would Have It

by DeathlessReaper



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/F, F/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-12 15:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15342540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathlessReaper/pseuds/DeathlessReaper
Summary: Lyra Russo has lived a rather mundane life for an orphan in London. Contrary to what Annie would like you to believe. She has a melancholic, full of annoying other foster siblings and dotting father figures. One summer day, when an old bearded man shows up on their porch, she discovers how quickly her life can take a turn.





	1. Do I Believe In Magic?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story and I'm sorta confident. If I make any mistakes, critique me. I'm open to criticism. I'm hoping this will help me with a book I'm writing. Just to blow off some steam. Also, if i don't update for like two months, i haven't abandoned, i'm just lazy.

I never believed in magic, or mythical creatures. Or that crap in kid’s movies, where all you needed was _love_ and all would be well. I mean we live in the real world. I was a realist, even at such a young age. Wonder and spontaneous joy weren’t things that were linked to me. At twelve years old, my outlook on the world was similar to that of a retired war veteran or an extreme pessimist. 

Imagine my surprise when I received a letter from some place called ‘Hogwarts’ a school based around _magic_ and that I was to attend there at the end of the summer.

At first, I thought it was an elaborate joke pulled on me by the older kids at the group home I lived in. They liked to mess with the younger kids, telling them all sorts of things. One time, one of the older kids, Rickter and his buddies, told one of the newer girls that if kids were bad, they went to the ‘dungeon.’ Basically, that meant our basement, where our guardian, Nigel, kept all the winter decorations and gym equipment. The poor girl spent a whole month doing all they asked of her, until Nigel found out and punished them.

I crumpled up the letter and threw it into the trash, not really feeling like broaching upon the subject. I wasn’t going to give them the time of day. I went about my day as I normally did, cleaning, reading or watching Tv. That is until the next day, I got another one. I threw it out also. Though I was impressed by the amount of detail they put into it. The wording and the originality was spot on, honestly if they had done it to another kid, it would have been believable.

For the next week, I received a letter every day. One just the same as the next, each thrown in the trash right after discovered. At first, it wasn’t a bother. But I was growing annoyed with the weird places the letters would end up at. First the garden, then under the couch cushions, and even under my pillow. A creepier display was when I found in in my secret trunk under my bed, which I was pretty sure no one knew about.  Saturday morning, imagine my astonishment when an old man showed up at our door, asking for me.

I had been begging Nigel to let me go roller skating all week. After a very thorough set of rules, one of which being that I had to clean all the dishes for a week.  We were heading out the door when we came upon a strange man. Not just strange, creepy. He looked like a well-dressed hobo or one of those guys who was wise in medieval movies. Nigel immediately stepped in front of me, blocking my path from the weirdo.

“Hello, can I help you with something?” He asked in a strong voice. The one he used when he was scolding the younger kids.

The strange man, smiles, his long beard twitching upward. “My name is Albus Dumbledore, I believe you have received our letters regarding a young Lyra Russo.” He states, looking down at me. My eyes widen.

Nigel’s eyes narrow, straightening his stance to be intimidating. “No, I haven’t received any letters.” Looking over his shoulder, Nigel asks. “Have you gotten anything in the mail, Lyra?”

“Nigel, this is a prank.” I cross my arms. “Rickter and the older boys have been leaving me letters for this place called Hogwarts or whatever and I was just ignoring them because I didn’t want to be a snitch.” I shrug. “I didn’t think that they would hire someone.”

Nigel turns back to the man. “Look sir, I don’t know how much they paid you, but you can leave.” He points out of the gate. “I’ll be talking to them.” He adds.

The man, Dumbledore, clears his throat. “I assure you, that letter was real.” He says, pulling an envelope from his long robes. “I have one for you.”

Nigel takes it from his boney hands, ripping it open.

 _“Dear Ms. Russo, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…”_ He crinkles his brows, looking down at the paper.

Looking up at the old man, Nigel drops his hands. He opens his mouth a few times, no words escaping his lips. I look at him, confused. _Is he actually believing this crap?_ I fold my arms, not believing this utter bullshit.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?” He laughs, causing me to jump at the unexpected reaction.

“I kid you not, Mr. Russo.” Dumbledore squats down, coming to eye level with me. “Hello, you are miss Russo?”

Coming out from behind Nigel, I lift my chin, not showing any fear. “I am.” Crossing my arms. “What of it?”

He chuckles softly. “You are witch, Lyra.”

Tilting my head. “You mean like those green skinned ones?” I ask. “That don’t exist.” I add, stepping forward.

Dumbledore hums. “You are special, and I want to bring to a place that you will help you enhance that specialness.” He states.

“Are you saying I’m mentally challenged?” I squint my eyes.

“No, you are a child of magic. I want you to come to my school.” He stands to full height. “Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

I scoff, chuckling lightly. “You’re as daft as a bush.” I state bluntly, walking back into the house. Looking over my shoulder, I smile sarcastically. “And I’ll be _damned_ if I go anywhere with you.”  I shut the door behind me, walking back up to my room. _I guess were not going to the rink today._ I sigh, flopping down in my bed.

The door to my room opens, revealing the face of my adviser. He silently comes over to sit on my bed, letting out a deep troubled breath. I sit up, looking up at him. Turning to face me, a deep frown on his face.

“It’s real.” He breaks the silence. “Hogwarts.”

I scoff. “You believe this crap!?”

“It’s not crap, Lyra.” He sighs. “A few years ago, a girl who lived here. Do you remember Mary?” He asks.

I nod.

I remember her. She was a weirdo. She would spend majority of her time playing in the dirt. She either was always in her room or could be seen talking to herself as she played outside with the squirrels and other creatures. She never bothered anyone, content to stick to her own devices.

“She was given the same letter.” Nigel reveals. “This was different though, she was different, everyone could tell. She would sit in the dead garden and stare at the dirt. Then like a day later, the whole thing would be lush and green. Flowers I’d never seen before would be there.” He rubs his hand down his face.

“Then one day, a woman came, saying she was special. That she had magic. I didn’t believe it. That is until the bloody woman turned into a cat. Right in front of my eyes.” He throws his hands out in emphasis. “She took Mary with her, to the school. When she came back, she was obsessed with these books, you know? Then she went back for the next semester, and she never came back.”

“What happened?” I ask curiously.

“She was taken in by a long-lost relative of hers and I never saw her again. She sent me an owl, which is like their mail service or whatever. Told me she was happy where she was, that she had finally found where she belonged.” He smiles, looking down at me. “I want you to go to Hogwarts.”

My eyes widen, jumping from the bed, I shout. “What!” I clench my fist. “Your just gonna pawn me of to some fraud who believes in ‘ _magic_ ’.” I air quote.

“He is not a fraud!” Nigel yells, frustrated. “I’m not trying to pawn you off. I want you to be happy.” He kneels in front of me, voice soft. “I know you’re not happy here. Your far too young to have such a bleak outlook on life. I don’t want to be responsible for that. “looking deep into my eyes, Nigel frowns. “I want you to find a place that makes you smile. A place the fills you with joy and wonder. That place is not here.” Looking away, he stands. “Pack your things, he wants to take you now, get you settled in before the year begins.” He pats my head.

“You can’t do this to me!” I shout, my voice quivers. “You can’t just throw me at the first person to come from me.” I clench the sheets in my grasp, feeling my heart constrict.

“I’m doing this for your own good.”

With that said, he walks out of my room, closing the door behind him.

The farewell was bitter and filled with awful emotions. I hugged Nigel, telling him that I’d never forgive for this. He smiled, saying he knew. Dumbledore told me to hold his hands. I gave him an odd look, grabbing his bony finger. This is already getting weird.

Then the world shifted, followed by a deafening crack. It felt like I was being pulled in all directions. Like the world was blurring and focusing at the same time. Then the feeling of being squished through the eye of a needle. Just like that the world was back to normal and I was standing on the side of a road.

A wave of fatigue hits me, causing me to stumble back. I grab my head, resting my other hand on my stomach. I tilt back, falling to the ground. My backpack slips from my grasp, falling with a dull thud.  A groan leaves my lips. What the heck? I lay back on the ground, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

"Your handling this exceptionally well." Dumbledore notes, standing over me, not at all affected. "Most throw up, or pass out." He adds.

Swallowing the bile that wants to escape my mouth, I glare up at the elderly man.

"Gee thanks, glad I didn't puke all over your pajamas." I hiss, groaning. I lay back to the ground. "A warning would have been nice." I mutter.

"You would have ended up the same way." He smiles sincerely. "Most try not apparate because of the feeling, but it's the most efficient mode of travel other than broomstick." He quips. "But I don't think that would have been any more comfortable for you either." He taps his chin in thought.

I take a deep breath, standing to my feet. My vision is still fuzzy, but I can walk straight. I pick my bag up, shaking my head. I sigh lowly. Standing to full height, I look up at the old man. Who is standing calmly near the entrance of some pub. Judging from the dingy sign. _Leaky Cauldron_. I squint my eyes.

"Where are we?" I question, laying a hand on my side. Still trying to compose myself.

"We are at the pathway to a shopping district we need to visit."  He walks over to the rusted door. "If you'll be attending Hogwarts, you'll need supplies." He adds, opening the door.

I follow after him. The inside is, admittedly, nicer than the outside. It's strange though. I follow Dumbledore down a short corridor, eyes having adjusted to the dark environment. All the lighting coming from various candles all over the room. The pub is empty. All the chairs pushed in and the tables clean of any trash.

The wood creaks under my steps, forcing me to step lighter. I run my hand over the surface of the table, reveling in the soft feeling. All of the chairs are different, like a potluck, but with chairs. Some look to be a part of a

"Come, come." Dumbledore calls. "No time to dally."

"This is a pub." I state, looking around. I take in the various art styles decorating the place. It's like they just asked a bunch of people to bring in random stuff and hang it on the walls. "Why are we here?" I ask, not taking my eyes from the poster across the room.

My eyes widen. _It-it’s moving_! Ignoring Dumbledore’s calls, I walk over to the odd fixture. I stop in front of the poster. It's four boys, on broomsticks. They all wearing weird robes of sorts, eyes covered by goggles as they fly through the air. Wow. I raise my hand, rubbing the worn paper between my fingertips. Unreal.

"Ah! That was a good game." Says Dumbledore, appearing at my left. Not flinching at his sudden appearance, I turn to him.

"How is this possible?"

Smirking down at me, he says. "Magic."

"Magic isn't real." I frown, crossing my arms.

"What do you call this?" He points to the moving picture. "What could this be, other than magic?"

Looking back at the picture, I stare at it for a moment. "A significant achievement in science." I huff.

Dumbledore doesn't reply, and turning on his heel. "Come, we need to get your school supplies." He announces.

I rush after him. Confused, I ask. "Where? We're in a pub."

We walk all the way to the building, arriving at a rust covered door. Dumbledore grabs the handle, pulling it op n with a loud shriek. I wince slightly at the noise. We step into a dark alleyway, littered with filthy puddles of water.

"Uh...we get them here?" I raise a brow. Maybe he is senile.

"Not here." He says cryptically.

Walking up to the alley wall, he taps a set of bricks on the wall. He then whispers a string of words that I can't understand. Stepping back, he stares at the wall.

"What now?"

"That." The bearded man says, pointing to the brick wall.

The sound of crumbling and rocks falling enters my ears. I watch as the wall starts to vibrate, shaking the ground around it. The bricks slowly but surely start to disappear, folding into each other. A path starts to show behind the wall. I peek passed the wall, catching sight of dozens of people.

When the wall has fully compacted into the sides, leaving a tall threshold, I feel my mouth fall open. A long line of shops. Hundreds of people walk back and forth between the buildings. Everyone wearing robes of varying colors. Kids and teens following their parents. Some walking with large cages or holding broomsticks.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley."


	2. I'm A What?

According to Dumbledore, Diagon Alley is a famous alleyway that all kids go to get supplies. Those supplies consist of books from Flourish and Botts, where most of the students bought their textbooks. There was Eeylops Owl Emporium, a shop that sells owls. Because apparently, normal postage is unacceptable for the things they send through the mail. Then we have Ollivanders, a wand shop, which is important, for obvious reasons. Though per Dumbledore’s council, we have to go to Gringotts, a bank that holds most of the money in the wiz adding world.

I look up at the old man. "But I don't have any money." I announce.

Grasping my hand tightly, as we maneuver through various witches and wizards, he says. "Of course, you don't. You didn't even know you were a witch, how would have money." He keeps his eyes straight.

"How am I to get money from a bank if I didn't have any to begin with?" I frown.

Coming to a big white building, we step into a long hall. "You let me worry about that." Dumbledore winks.

As we walk down the posh hall, I note the strange men sitting at the podiums. Their small and stout, reminding me of gremlins. They have pointed ears, reaching over their heads. Long noses, and balding heads. Some have full heads of hair. As I'm walking by, one catches my stare, sending me a viscous hiss. Displaying his sharp, yellow, teeth.

Raising a brow. I raise my hand, lifting the finger Nigel used when someone cut him off in traffic. It gets the same reaction, an angered snarl. The man stands, showing of his two-foot stature, forcing me to slam my hand to my mouth, stifling my laughter.

"Don't antagonize them." Dumbledore scolds, softly. "They hold grudges."

I shrug. "It's not like I'll see him again."

"You don't know that, fate is a tricky mistress." Dumbledore laughs, patting my head softly.

I shove my hands into my pockets, leaving only my thumbs visible. “Fate doesn’t seem to like me much anyway.” I mutter.

We get to the end of the hall before Dumbledore can respond. The short creature at the desk looks down at me first, eyes narrowing in disgust. I frown. _Look in a mirror, you ugly goblin_. I tighten my fist in my jeans. The creature’s beady eyes then switch to Dumbledore, widening in shock.

That’s another thing I noticed. People seem to look at Dumbledore as if he were a god. As we were walking here, at least twenty people froze. Staring at the man like a messiah come to take them to the holy land. Others stared and kept walking, some just spared curious glances. Along with those looks, I received a few. Some probably wondering why I was with the elder man. Must be pretty big in this “magic” world.

“Albus, it’s been a long time since you came to withdraw.” The creature says, voice scratchy. “It’s nice to see you on this day.”

Dumbledore raises his hand, waving at the man. “Yes, it indeed has been.” He speaks. “But it is not me who is to withdraw today.” He announces. “But her.” He points to me.

I stare at the old man. “But Dumbledore, I already told you I have no money.” I tug at his robes. 

He looks down, smiling before pulling a key out of his pocket. Not just any key. This one looks like a skeleton key, from those old mystery movies. It looks strange, definitely expensive. A small crest lies in the middle, a purple raven. In its mouth is a feather. _Badass_. I hum, looking it over. I raise a brow at the shocked look the crosses the creatures face as he looks between me and the key. _What was that?_

“Let me take you to the vaults.” He swallows, clearing his throat. “Follow me, if you will.”

Dumbledore and I follow behind the short man. We walk around a low door, stepping through a larger door. Unlike the beautiful marble hall, we were just in, this room is more like a dungeon. Ceiling is dripping with unidentifiable liquid. The ground underfoot is uneven and rocky. The sound of little critters walking around causes me to look down, hoping not to step on or in anything.

We come to a small track. A long metal cable, connected to a small cart. The short man hops inside, strapping a pair of goggles over his eyes. He beckons for us to get in. Dumbledore goes first, bending his long legs to fit into the cart. I look at the contraption with trepidation.

“Is this safe?” I question.

Dumbledore smiles, patting the seat next to him. “I can assure you that all Goblin made goods are very trustworthy.” he pauses, taping his chin. “I don’t believe in all the time that I have been alive that a Goblin product has caused me to question reliability.” He adds after moments of thought.

I breathe a sigh, I hesitantly approach the cart. “If you say so.” I huff, sliding into the seat beside the old man.

The Goblin pulls a lever. “Vault 612.” He yells.

The cart jerks forward, starting its trek down the long track.

“We’ll be going quite low, so hold on.” The creature shouts over the loud winds.

Hold on I do, the moment he says that, we take a hundred-foot free fall down a straight rail. All the air in my lungs escapes me, making it hard to scream as I want to. My fingers dig into the metal. I grit my teeth, eyes widening when I spot a wall coming our way. I turn to Dumbledore, who doesn’t look at all worried. _Crap_. I tense, shutting my eyes.

The cart screeches to a halt, throwing me forward into my seat. I _feel_ my heart stop. My fingers nearly snap at the forceful hold I have on the seat in front of me. I breathe out harshly, relaxing my hold.

“Alright, here we are.” The Goblin announces. “Vault 612.” He says climbing out of the cart.

“Come on Lyra.” Dumbledore voices, already out of the cart.

I give him a disbelieving look. _How the hell is that old fart walking after that?_ I press a hand to my heart, trying to calm its rapid pace. I shakily step out of the deathtrap, leaning down to rest my hands on my knees. _I seem to be needing to catch my breath more than ever_. I growl. Looking up, see a door.

“So.” I pant. “What’s this vault about then?” I right myself, looking at the intricate door.

 “We need to acquire some funds, so I figured we’d come to the wizarding bank.” Answers Dumbledore.

“Oh?” I question. “I don’t know how I’ll pay you back.”

“This vault doesn’t belong to me.” The old man chuckles.” It’s yours.”

My brows hit my hairline. _Mine?_  

“Mine.” I repeat aloud. “But, I don’t have a bank account. I’m twelve!” I yell, frustrated.

“It was your parents vault.” I freeze. “They left it for you.” The old man continues, sliding the key into the door lock.

_My parents_. My hands hang limply at my sides as I stare vacantly at the wall. _My parents_. I feel my heart squeeze in my chest. I don’t know how to feel. Confusion seems like something that should be present. Hurt. For a long time, I ignored the thought of my parents. I ignored the fact that they weren’t in my life, that they were gone from this world. Or maybe, they just didn’t want me. It’s happened before. Kids dropped off at the home, because they couldn’t handle having someone to look after. To love. I ignored the pain that came with never seeing their faces. Never hearing a soft “I love you” like they did on television. Or getting bedtime stories.

I was alone, even Nigel knew that I didn’t see him as my parent. I saw him as a big brother. A man who looked after me, taught me life lessons and showed me all the love he could. I didn’t want parents. I clench my fist. I wanted someone who loved me. If having parents was that, then I’d rather be alone. All the kids at the home wanted parents, had parents once. Look what happened to them. Dumped like garbage, forced to live in the gutter.

A loud screeching sound pulls me from my thoughts. The big metal door that Dumbledore had been standing in front of slides open on its own accord. Dumbledore steps aside, moving away from its path. He looks back over his shoulder, eyes locking with mine.

“Go in.” He jerks his head. “It doesn’t belong to me.”

I look down, breaking contact with the bearded man. _It isn’t mine either_. I want to say. I want to scream that this isn’t my world. That magic doesn’t exist. I harden my eyes, staring forward.  Clenching my fists, I walk passed the man, entering the dark room. Dumbledore says nothing, neither does the Goblin. My steps echo in the silence. A torch lights itself to my left, producing a flinch from me. The black walls light up as dozens of torches, their flames licking the rocky surface.

My eyes nearly bulge out of my head when they finally adjust to the light. On the ground, in piles, stacking to the ceiling. Gold. I snap my gaze over to the other side of the room. A chalice filled with jewels. In the back of the room. Books. Tapestries. More gold. My jaw drops. I step forward, going deeper into the space.

“No way.” I whisper, running my hand over the cold hard coins. “It’s real.” I gasp.

I lift the coin to my face, looking it over. On the face of the coin, there is a scripture. _Unum Galleon_. Looking closer, I inspect the design. There’s a dragon on it. Its head reared back, sharp teeth to the sky. Two small wings at it sides. I flip it over. _Gringotts Bank_. A man with a tall hat and a long scraggly beard on his face resides on the other side. A wizard. My mind supplies. _Its light_. I hum. Glittering in the torchlight. I roll it in my palm.

Pocketing the coin, I walk over to the jewels that line pretty much every surface. Peeking into the chalice, I take note of all of the rocks sitting in it. Diamonds. Rubies. A freaking pearl necklace. I lift it to my face. _Whoa, I’ve only seen this stuff in shop windows_. The little white stones are so smooth. I can’t help but smile as I rub my thumb over the face. I set the necklace back down, reaching for the diamond. It’s the size of my fist. I clutch it in my grasp, squeezing it.

A breathless laugh leaves my lips.

Shaking my head, I put the stone down. Surveying the room one last time, I turn to Dumbledore. My voice trembles as I speak.

“This is all mine?” Eyes wide.

The old man nods. “All of it.” He assures.

“How? Why?” I flap my arms, gesturing around the room. “This is the most money I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Your parents left it all for you.” He waves his hand. “They left you this, because they knew you would need it.”

A frustrated scream leaves me. “What do you know! Who were they? Where did they go?!” I stomp over to the man, trying to look intimidating. “Why did you bring me here? Why did you take me away from my life!” My voice wavers. I choke it down _. I will not cry. I’m stronger than all of this!_

“You are not ready. That is for another day.” He states simply. “Grab as much as you can. You need to buy your supplies.” He walks away, leaving me standing there.

I did like he said. Filling my backpack with all it could carry. I shoved handfuls into the pockets, coins fell from my hasty actions. Loud clangs of metal and rolling jewels. At one point, I had to just take fistfuls into my pockets. In my jacket, in my pants. The incredible thing is I hardly made a dent in the endless fortune.  Before I left the room, I turn back. My eyes zero in on a bracelet. There’s nothing special about it. It doesn’t even have any valuables in it. Just a silver bracelet.

I walk over to it, lifting into my hands. In the middle, just like the key. There’s a black raven. My brows furrow. Without hesitation, I slide it onto my wrist. It hangs on my small arm, nearly slipping right back off when I lift my backpack. _Shit_. I growl. _What did I expect? It’s filled with gold_. I trudge slowly out into the cavern corridor.

As soon as I’m fully in the hall, the door to the vault closes. The screeching sound following it. I stand there, staring at the metal. The ride back to the surface is silent. Well except for the loud crashing sounds of water, bat shrieks and wind whipping around. Dumbledore hardly spares me a glance, bidding farewell to the goblin bank teller. He walks quickly ahead of me, eyes straight, never looking back.

We reach a store, Flourish and Botts. The book store. Dumbledore turns around, finally looking at me. not in the eyes though. He pulls a piece of paper from his robes. Handing me it. I give him a curious look, scanning the paper. _It looks like a checklist_. I look back up at the old man.

“You must buy everything on that list.” He orders. “I won’t be going in with you.” Before I can ask why, he continues. “I have to get something.” He says cryptically.

“But, I don’t know this place.” I stomp my foot, acting very much like a child. _Grow up_. I sneer inwardly. “I…fine. I’m used to it anyway.” I swing around, entering the busy store. I ignore Dumbledore’s calls.

The inside of the store is unique. The bookcases are either curved, twisted or some books are not even in shelves. Stacked haphazardly on any feasible surface. I scan the area, noting the copious amount of people stuffed into one establishment. I look down at my list, I walk deeper into the shop. This is a bad idea, because as soon as I glance back up, I’m hit by a hard body.

I’m thrown to the ground with a grunt of pain. I shake my head, looking up at the man standing above me. He’s dressed in all black robes. His silver hair falling over his shoulders, like he’s in a shampoo commercial. It has more product in it than most teenage girl’s hair. I smirk.

The man looks down at me, a disgusted sneer on his lips. “Watch where you’re going, filthy muggle!” He shouts. So much venom fills his words, it makes me raise a brow. Not at all intimidated by this dramatic reaction. He twirls on his feet stalking out of the store.

Still on the ground, I shout. “I don’t know what that is!” I take a deep breath, cupping my hands over my mother. “But, your mother!” The man stumbles a little, producing a smile form me. _knob_. I hiss inwardly.

I pick my list up off the ground, standing to my feet. This place is just making me hate everything a little more.  Standing upright, I notice the stares of a group of kids. Five gingers, a boy wearing round glasses and a girl with bushy brown hair. They all stair wide eyed at me.

“What?!” I snap, causing them to look away.

The boy with the round glasses, having not looked away, murmur a low “Nothing.” He smiles, one dark brow raised in amusement.

I walk passed them, not really in the mood. Ten minutes later, I feel all my anger simmering right under the surface of my skin. _This place is impossible_. I growl. _No organization, no signs and I can’t even tell who the damn owner is_. _It’s going to take me hours to find all these books_. I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose roughly. No one is even paying me any attention, because some famous book writer is crooning with all the people. Bright camera flashes and fake laughs.

_Why am I even trying? I don’t believe in any of this shit._ I roll my eyes. As I think that, a book floats pass me, into the hands of a little boy. _I’ll choose to ignore that_. I huff.

I walk aimlessly around the store for another five minutes, trying to see if any of the books match the titles I’m looking for. I stare at a stack of books sitting on one of the in tables. Lifting it, so I can better look, I gasp. _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_. My eyes light up. It’s on my list. I mentally cheer. Not so mentally, giving a little dance as I do. Book one, down. I nod, suddenly determined to get the whole list. It takes me nearly an hour, but I’ve finally collected the last book. _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection._ I pick up a book sitting next to it with the name, _Hogwarts: A History_. If I’m going to be attending for the foreseeable future, I might as well try to understand it. I shrug, adding it to the impossibly heavy pile in my hands.

“This is worse than when Nigel made me help him organize his library.” I pant, setting the books down at, what I believe to be the cashier.

“Hello!” the elderly woman greets. “Oh, Fantastic beasts! You must be a first year.” She smiles brightly.

“Yeah.” I shift uncomfortably under her gaze. “I am.”

“That’ll be twenty galleons.” She says softly.

I dig into my pocket, pulling out a handful of gold coins. I place them individually on the counter. When finished, I push them over to her. The woman, picks them up, looking at the stack of books as she puts the coins away. She suddenly drops under the counter, disappearing from sight.

_What the-?_ But before I can full question it, she’d back, holding a brown satchel. Its worn and has scratches all over it. She pushes it over the counter towards me. 

“Here.” She smiles. “To hold your books.” She indicates, pointing at the huge stack.

“Thank you but how am I supposed to do that?” I question. “I don’t think all those will fit.” I chuckle.

She smiles. “You’re new to this aren’t ya?” she chuckles. “It has an extension spell on it, anything you put in it will fit and it won’t get any heavier.” She demonstrates, sliding the huge stack into the small bag. Instead of ripping, like I thought it would. All the books disappear, entering the bag.

“Whoa.” I mumble. I lift the bag, shoving my hand into it. I gasp as my arm goes in, all the way up to my shoulder. “This is amazing.”

“Yeah it is.”

Peering back up at the woman, I ask. “How much do I owe you?”

She waves her hands. “It’s nothing, just an old hand me down from my school days.”

“Thank you.” I say sincerely. “I won’t get a broken back.” I chuckle. Lame joke, dork.

“No, it’s alright. Good luck, Hogwarts is a great place.”

When out of the store, I walk over to the side, sliding my backpack off my shoulders. This might work. I slowly lower the bag into the satchel, watching as it sinks right in. I drop it, hearing a series of crashes. Hmm, I check on it later. I shrug. Standing up, I nearly laugh in relief. My shoulders were crying from that weight. I hoist the satchel onto my back, peering down at the list Dumbledore gave me.

“I need robes.” I nod to myself.

The next shop was a nightmare. _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_. Apparently, I was to buy my uniform there for the school semester. The list was long and stressful.

 

_Three sets of plain black work robes_

_One plain black pointed hat for day wear_

_One pair of protective gloves: dragon hide or similar_

_One winter cloak: black, silver fastenings_

The woman in the shop forcibly measured me from head to toe with her weird tape measure. That might I add had a mind of its own. Then she tried to force me into a skirt, which I threw back at her, demanding a pair of slacks. Rules be damned, there was no way I was wearing a skirt for the entire year. If I was being forced to come to this school, I wasn’t just going to comply to their every whim. I left the shop, having paid only thirty galleons for it all.  The owner practically threw me out, unshed tears in her eyes.

The next shop I entered was a supply shop. _Scribbulus Writing Instruments_. It wasn’t hard at all to find this place, it had a giant quill in front of it and books and scrolls lining the window. This shop I surprisingly did enjoy. It was similar to supply shopping when I started school at the end of every summer. Except I didn’t have to wait outside of talk Nigel down from a proverbial cliff when he didn’t know what ruled notebooks we needed. I wasn’t going to miss that ritual.

I walked around the shop, picking up all the things I thought I’d need. Six rolls of scroll paper, four quills, and a pad of ink. For some reason my list said I’d need a telescope, a dagger and a set of brass scales. I just shrugged, whatever was on the list was quickly piled onto the counter of the shop as I went back and forth. Occasionally I had to ask the shop hand what some things were, because most of the stuff in the shop looked like it had been pulled from the 1700s.

I started to get a handle on what I was doing, reading off the sit and buying what I needed. I quickly headed to _Potage's Cauldron Shop_. Since I would need a size 2, pewter. Whatever the hell that was. I was staring at the big black oblong pots for about five minutes when a man came over and asked if I needed any help. My first instinct was to say no, but I realized I would just end up looking like an idiot if I got the wrong one and was stuck with it for the whole year. I bit the bullet and nodded.

The next shop I entered was a pet shop called Magical Menagerie. The inside of the shop didn’t smell like a normal one in London. It was actually quite sweet. The store itself wasn’t all that bizarre. It was the animals that resided in the cages that pulled my attention. The first cage had a black shadow of a creature. It had way too many eyes than I was comfortable with.

The second cage had a common house cat. A dark black coat, with pure green eyes that could see into your soul if they liked. Too stereotypical. I shake my head. Coming to the next cage I see a small puff ball of a creature, which looked like a wad of hair pulled from a drain.  Each creature I passed didn’t give me the feeling of wanting them.

There were actually some pretty average pets, like cats, dogs, rats and mice. All separated in different cages all over the store. Then there were the creatures that made a chill go up my spine, like the tarantula, a python and something called a bow truckle. Each animal would either stare through me or not even look at me. _Their just like humans_. I scoff. I swear a cat rolled its eyes at me when I looked in its cage.

I stop at the last cage in the row, having considered every habitant. Peering over the edge of the enclosure, I notice a ball of fur scrunched up in the corner. It has blue and green fur, coupled with a red dot upon its nose. _Badass_. My heart flutters as I make eye contact with it. _Of course_. I smile down at the frightened baby cottontail. It unfurls from the ball it was in and hops over to me, black eyes taking me in _. I feel like I’m being tested_. I huff. The little creature stares at me for a long moment, neither of us moving an inch. 

Suddenly, the rabbit hops high, miraculously doing a back flip. I watch as it runs around the space, chirping and kicking wildly.

“It chose you.” I jump at the unexpected voice.

The shop keeper who’d been sitting at the counter, lazily flipping through a magazine. He stands a few feet away from me, watching the rabbit’s antics.

“Excuse me?”

He clears his throat. “It chose you. Most of the animals here are very selective about the master they keep.” He shrugs.

Confused, I ask. “But aren’t I keeping it?”

This pulls a laugh from him. “No, you never really own them. They kind of have to choose you or they can never be your familiar.” He says softly, running a hand through his red locks.

I look back down at the creature. “This world is zonky.” I murmur.

“If you think this is weird, wait until you start school.” He chuckles.

A grin forms on my face. “So, how much?”

“For you? Two galleons.” My brows raise in question.

  
“Really?” I chirp.

He nods. “Yeah, she’s been here for years and she never chose a master until now.” He points at the creature.

“But she’s a baby.” I point out.

The shopkeeper shakes his head. “Nah, she’s like five or something.” My eyes widen. “I know right! They only start to age when they’ve met their masters. They age alongside them.” He informs. “She’ll live as long as you do.” He pats the side of the enclosure.

“Blimey.” I say, turning my gaze to the creature. “That’s ace. I need a friend.”

After securing the little creature, I head for the last shop of the day trip. Ollivanders. It’s a wand shop, the most important thing I’ll be receiving. I mean, what’s a witch without a wand. I chortle. I’m still pretty in denial about this whole magic thing, but I’m going along with it for now. Just as I arrive outside of the shop, I not a familiar figure. Dumbledore is standing inside the shop, talking with a crazy haired old man. Tightening my grip on my rabbit’s cage, I maneuver through the crowd of wizards.

The door dings above me. The sound pulls Dumbledore’s attention over to me from his conversation. He smiles at me, lifting a finger, wanting me to wait. This confuses me. _What? He abandons me in some strange alley, filled with strangers and suddenly, we’re best buds again_. I huff, walking over to the nearest wall. The walls are lined with shoe sized boxes.

“I’m supposed to buy a wand anyway.” I shrug.

Setting down the cage in my hand. I pull one of the boxes from its spot, peeking inside, I see a long stick. Its brown, about the length of my forearm. I switch the box to hold under my arm, digging inside. Pulling back some of the cloth covering it, I lift the stick to eye level. Its smooth. I nod to myself. I rub my finger at the base. This is what wizards use? I smirk.

Flicking the wand, I say. “Abra Cadabra!”

What I wasn’t expecting was a giant gust of wind and a lightning bolt flying from the tip of the wand. I’m thrown back into the boxes at the sheer force of the hit. A couple boxes fall on me from their perches. I groan, lifting my hand to my head. A loud ringing plays in my ears, jumbling my thoughts. My eyes cut to the wand in my hand, hastily throwing it from my grasp.

“Wha-bloody hell!?” I scream, scooting away from the weapon.

Dumbledore rushes over to me, eyes wide with shock and concern. He kneels, laying his hands on my shoulder. But my eyes are still on the _little stick_ that blew me into a wall. His hands grasp my chin, forcing me to look into his grey eyes.

“Are you alright? Do you hurt anywhere?” He fires off.

I push his hands away, standing to my feet. Third time I’ve been knocked to my feet in one day. Sad thing is I’m getting used to it. I cough at the dust that surrounds us.

“I’m fine.” I cough. “What the hell was that?” I hiss.

“That my dear is what happens when you use a wand that isn’t yours.” He stands to his feet, towering over me. “Rule one, don’t touch things that don’t belong to you.” He tuts.

“Bu-but, how am I supposed to buy a wand?”

“You wait until I hand it to you.” The crazy haired man speaks up, walking over to pick up the tossed wand. “This is a ten-inch willow, Thunderbird tail feather.” He tuts softly. “Those damn American models. Can’t handle strong wizards.”

“Lyra.” Dumbledore calls my attention. “This is Ollivander. The world famous wandmaker.” He points to the man, silently curing the wand. “He has gifted almost every witch and wizard in Hogwarts their wand.”

I nod to the man. “Charmed.” I hiss sarcastically.

“Hmm, just as sweet as you said she was.” Ollivander retorts to Dumbledore. “I know just the wand.” He scurries away.

I turn my gaze to the old man. “Where have you been?” I narrow my eyes.

“I was acquiring your room at Leaky Cauldron.” He says simply. “Also, a gift, it’s in your room though so don’t ask.” He smiles down at me, amused.

I shut my mouth. I wonder what it is. I ponder for a few short moments until Ollivander comes staggering back. He walks over to me, holding a long black box. A thick layer of dust covers the box. He stops in front of me, opening the box.

“This is one of the oldest I have. I know it will fit you perfectly.” He winks. Lifting the lid, he reveals a long white wand, that looks remarkably like marble. “Eleven inches, aspen wood. Veela hair core. This is arguably one of the most powerful wands in existence. But it’s never melded with anyone since its original master. Its Veela hair core makes it temperamental and quite unpredictable. It’s great for a strong wizard. They only pick people with potential to do great things.” He chatters, gazing at the wand in wonder.

He looks up at me, pushing it into my hands. “Well, go on take it.” He prods.

I hold out my hands, watching hesitantly as the old man lays it on my palms. I really don’t want to blow myself off the face of the planet before I can even see the school.  I look up to Dumbledore, eyes seeking guidance. He merely nods, encouragingly. I curl my fingers, grasping the wand. Taking it in my left hand, I flick it like I did the other one.

I flinch as a bright stream of light shoots from the tip. The light swirls, surrounding me in its embrace. I stare at the line as it twists around me, like a swirly cone or something. All of a sudden, a blinding beam cuts off my vision, filling the whole room. Like a flash its gone, like it never happened. Eyes wide, I look down at the wand. _Cool_.

“Looks like I was right.” Ollivander crosses his arms, smug.

 

* * *

 

 

After the whole wand choosing thing, Dumbledore took me back to the Leaky cauldron. There, I ate dinner, and was shown my room. The place was not what I expected it to be. Despite the annoying train that would rumble by every few hours, it was like an out of this world hotel. While walking down the hall to my room, I noticed that not all the rooms were the same. Some looked like hotel rooms, medieval dungeons, and even hospital rooms.

The room I was stationed in was more like a loft. I scan the room, eyes taking in every detail. There’s a fireplace right in front of my bed. My bed is a up a ladder, installed in the wall. Its average size, good enough to sleep on. Under it is a desk, equip with a lamp, quill and a few scrolls of paper. There’s a large window, overlooking an empty alleyway.

Apparently, Dumbledore’s gift came in two. The first was a giant trunk. Thankfully fitted with wheels. I could sleep in the damn thing. It comes to my hips and is really deep. I think it has one of those extension spells on it.

The second gift was more of a companion. He got me an owl. I was surprised when it flew at me as soon as I came into the room. A small black thing, cute as can be though. He has nearly pitch-black feathers, shining in any light. But on the top of his head are two brown spots. If you were far away, you’d think them to be eyes. I’m currently trying to come up with a name that he likes, because for some reason all animals are little assholes. 

“How about Keller?” I suggest to the winged creature as I stroke Liro’s fur.

The little cotton tail liked the name as soon as I had said, jumping into my lap and staying there. She purrs quietly in my hold, while I try to name the damn bird. He’s impossible, hating every name I give him.

_Silence._

“Hugin?”

_Silence_.

“Munin?”

_Silence_.

“You’re a picky little bastard, you know that?” I raise a brow.

The bird shrieks at that, obviously having understood my insult. I smirk.

“Oden?”

_Shriek_.

“Really?” I stop petting the animal in my lap. “You want to be called Oden?”

The owl shrieks again, fluttering his wings.

I shake my head, flopping down in my bed. The cloud-like mattress greeting me like an old friend. I fall asleep with a sense of calm.


	3. Stupid Hat

The loud crowds encompassing Kings Cross fill my ears. Passengers milling about everywhere, calling to loved ones, boarding trains or just standing around waiting for their trains.  I drag my trunk behind me, trying get through the crowd. I look down at the ticket Dumbledore gave me before we left the Leaky Cauldron. The train is to leave at 9am, from platform 9 ¾. I hastily look up at the clock on the wall. _8:45_. _Come one, where the hell is this place!_ I growl quietly, pulling my trunk. I walk over to a wall, looking up at the sign.

_Platform 9._

“Why couldn’t he have come with me?” I snarl.

Dumbledore dropped me off at the station and left, telling me to behave myself. _Like I needed him to tell me that_. I scoff. After having roomed nearly, a week at the Leaky Cauldron, I spent a small amount of that time with the bearded man. I grew very tired of his know-it-all attitude. The way he looked at me and spoke to me made it very clear that he knew things I didn’t and was either rubbing it in my face or just not aware of his behavior. _Nah, he’s aware of it_. He never answered any of my questions, being the weaver of words as he was, he’d turn it around on me or just down right ignored me. Even though he was there for me at any time, I grew annoyed with his avoidance and stayed in my room for the majority of the time.

Then earlier this morning I was awoken by the man telling me that I had to get ready for the trip to the train station. Not wanting to apparate, he simply suggested that we walk. He said I wasn’t adapted yet to take something called the “Floo Network”. If it was anything like Apparition, then no thanks. I wasn’t initially bothered by the request until I realized that I would be lugging a trunk the size of my body and two cages like five blocks to Kings Cross. I silently cursed him the whole way there. Not so silently a few times. He ignored me, chattering on about how beautiful the day was. I probably would have joined in as the day was nice, but I could feel myself ready to cough up a lung, so I chose to stay silent.

I plop down on my trunk, not knowing what to do. Dozens of people pass. I walked around for a half an hour just to make sure I hadn’t walked passed it, but all I found were platform 9 and 10.  I tried to ask the conductor, but he laughed in my face, saying there wasn’t a platform of that name. When I flipped him off because of it, I had to run. _Fat ass had to stop and breathe_. I smirk at the memory. I sigh, resting my chin on my palm. What will happen if I miss the train? I wonder if I can just head home and not have to deal with this again. Ever.

“I can’t believe we were almost late!” says a woman, rushing with her kids towards me. “Platform 9 ¾ won’t wait for anyone.”

I perk up as the name is mentioned, watching as the woman situates her kids. A whole herd of gingers. The woman frantically chatters at her children, eyes wide as she questions the. _Why do they look familiar?_ I frown, watching as the woman blurs away. Then all of a sudden, their running straight at the wall. Before I can tell them to stop, they disappear. Then kids go in after her, running at the wall also. _Oh._ I slump, standing up. _This is probably going to kill me._ I stand from my seat on my trunk, staring at the wall. A grimace pulls at my lips.

“I think this is where I leave my sanity.” I grumble.

Taking a deep breath, preparing myself. I walk over to the middle of the path, staring at the wall between the 9 and the 10. Okay. This is it. I take a few hops and psyche myself up. Securing Oden and Liro in their straps, I take off quick, no time for hesitation. I flinch as we get within inches of the wall. Just like the other, I pass through, not crashing horribly. A cold chill runs up my spine, quickly disappearing when I reach the other side. A breeze hits my face. I crack open my eyes, taking in the odd sight. _City beyond a wall_.

The other side is just like the rest of the station. Except for the hundreds of kids and parents holding large trunks with them. I walk over to the train. I turn back, looking at the seemingly solid wall. Nope, not enough time to question it. I shake my head.  Platform 9 ¾ painted on the side of the beautiful locomotive. Bright gold, mingled with black and red. I feel like this is the part where I’m supposed to gasp in disbelief. All I feel is a mild annoyance.

“That git couldn’t tell me that I had to run through a wall.” I huff, dragging my stuff with me.

I push pass a horde of jittery bodies, ducking under flailing arms.  I maneuver through a dozen people to get to the entrance of the train. Boarding the train is just as difficult. Kids are running back and forth between train cars and compartments, or the one yelling out the windows to their loved ones. I walk down the car, trying to find an empty space. The last one on the car is empty, producing a smile from me. I push open the door, I close it behind me when fully in.

“Nice.” I nod appreciatively.

The inside is beautiful. Red comfy looking seats, a small table connected to the wall to the end between the two booth-like seats. Overhead are two nets that hold luggage. I undo the straps on my trunk, pulling both Oden and Liro’s cages from it. Lifting the heavy trunk up, I hop onto the seats, shoving it into the basket. A few punches and a swift jab gets the case to fit snuggly in place. I drop down from the seat, wiping my hands on my jeans. I step over to Oden and Liro’s cages, placing them on the basket also.

“Okay.” I place my hands on my hips. “Now I can sleep.”

Dumbledore told me that the ride to Hogwarts would take at least seven hours, eight if it departed late. Which it never did. I was just glad that I would be able to rest. The old man woke me at such an ungodly hour to get ready. _Serenity_. I sit back on the seats, laying arms behind my head. I bring my feet up to the cushion, closing my eyes. I drift off into a state between the waking world and the dream filled one. The train jerks ten minutes later, followed by the load scream of the horn _. Smooth sailing from here_. I sigh.

I don’t even get a full five minutes before the door to my compartment opens. The sound of heavy trunks and whispered voices fill the little space. I leave my eyes closed, not wanting to be forced to endure a ride full of mind numbing small talk.

“I can’t believe Harry and Ron didn’t make it.” Says a hushed voice. A girl.

A loud huff and the sound of a trunk being set in the basket follow.

“If it’s not one thing, it’s another.” Says another voice, also female. “Honestly, I’d like to have a good year.” Sighs the voice.

“Hermione, you and I both know that is impossible.” Says the first voice.

‘Hermione’ sighs again. “I know, Ginny.”

“Who do you think that is?” says ‘Ginny’.

_They must be talking about me_. I stay completely still, breathing calmly.

“Hmm?” A pause. “Merlin!” yelps Hermione.

“What?” Hisses Ginny.

“That’s the girl that bumped into Lucius Malfoy at Flourish and Botts!” Gasps Hermione.

“The one who yelled ‘Your mother’ at him as he walked away?” Asks Ginny.

I have to force myself not to smile. The big blonde ass who pushed me and called me a ‘muggle’. I’ll have to learn what that is _. I don’t want people thinking they can insult me ‘cause I can’t understand them._ I tune out their voices, falling fast into a dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

I’m woken by a soft poking to my side. I open my eyes, blinking away the blur. They focus on a figure standing over me. A figure with big hair. Slowly I sit up, looking around. My mind flashes _. Leaky Cauldron. Kings Cross. Platform 9 ¾. Compartment_. I shake my head, locking on two figures standing in front of me.

“You have to change.” The bushy haired girl says, voice soft.

“Change?” I ask, still sleepy.

I sit up, looking around the compartment. I take in the dark space, looking out the window. I see that the sun has gone down. Must have slept the whole time. I stand from my seat, looking at the two girls who are currently looking through their trunks. The bushy haired one, looks up, smiling at me.

“You have to change into your robes before we get to the school.’” She points to my trunk.

“Oh.” I sigh, running a hand through my short black hair. “Thanks.” I nod.

“No problem.”

I cast a glance at the clothing I’d boarded in. A black hoodie and a pair of jeans that have seen better days. Looking down further I groan. I wonder if they’ll let me keep my comfortable shoes on, not those toe pinching traps I bought. The school had regulations for shoes as well. I tried them on and I nearly cried. It was like wrapping my feet in duct tape and walking a mile. Running a hand through my hair, I shrug in indifference.  Turning around, I hop onto the seat, dragging down my trunk moving out of the way as it falls to the seat. I shift it on its sides, unclipping the clasps on the sides. I pull out my clothes, laying them on the cushioned seat. One robe, a pair of regulation pants, a buttoned shirt and my torture shoes. I quickly pull my jacket over my head, dragging my shirt along with it.

A gasp causes me to turn.

The bushy haired girl, looks at me, face flushed red. “You don’t want any privacy?” She asks.

I shrug, pulling off my pants. “I don’t really care. I grew up with like six or seven boys always walking in or out of my room.” I wave. “This doesn’t really bother me.”

“Oh.” She drops her eyes, holding a shirt to her clothed chest.

“I’ll turn if you want privacy or whatever.” I say, turning so my back faces them.

Rickter, Shadwell, and Corban would enter into my room whenever they pleased. I never particularly cared because I never did anything that made me fearful of an open door. I wasn’t at _that_ age yet and I feared when I reached it, I would need a lock. As I’m still a girl in that aspect. Nigel assured me when I asked that if I needed a new door, preferably with a lock, that he would get one. I grew up around the boys, some of them changed my diapers. I have nothing to be embarrassed of.

Not to sound like I’m bragging, but I know I have _nothing_ to be embarrassed of. At such a young age, I’ve been called beautiful by nearly every person I’ve met. Short black hair, I make sure to cut all the time. Storm cloud grey eyes, that have been known to look white on a good day. Pale white skin, thanks to where I live. I’m not tall, but I’m still young, at 5’3 and I eagerly await the days when I’m taller. I look similar to Nigel so on some occasions I was mistaken for his daughter. Since we share many of the same features.

I slip my shirt on, one arm after another. I slowly button it up, making sure each one goes into the right hole. I roll up my sleeves, stopping them at my elbows. I lean down, stepping into my pants. They fit snugly to my hips. I sigh, lifting my tie. _Whatever_. I unceremoniously drape it around my neck. Looking down I hum. _Looking good_.

 

* * *

 

Taking boats to the schools was not what I expected. Boats that drove themselves was even cooler, because I know for a fact I would have been stuck out in the middle of the lake with the rest of it occupants. The water is ink black, as dark as the midnight sky. The only light coming from the lantern in the boat and the bright full moonlight the reflects off it like a mirror. I lean back against the side of the boat, letting my hand drag across the surface of the water. It’s cold to the touch. Weird, because summer just ended. I crinkle my brows, dipping my digits beneath the cold water. I breathe a sigh.

“Wonderful.”

A gasp leaves my lips as I catch sight of the castle. Hundreds of torches and lanterns light up the outside of the castle, creating a gorgeous silhouette. The tallest tower to the lowest rock lay atop a huge mountain. There’s an uncountable number of windows lining it and that’s only part if it! I sit up, taking it its glorious view. I’ve never seen something some enchanting in all my life.

The kids in the boat with me gasp and whisper excitedly, staring at the magnificent building in awe. I smile, listening to them gossip and chatter. The closer we get, the more detailed the castle. More windows, more corridors. It doesn’t take to long for us to dock. Like a roller coaster car, the boats stop at the dock, waiting for everyone to get off before moving on.

When all the kids are out of the boats, a herd of teachers corral everyone into the castle. Some of the teachers take a group of upperclassmen to another part of the castle. Leaving only the first years. The entrance hall is huge. Dozens of stone soldiers lining the walls. I don’t get much time to admire it though, because we’re once again pushed up two flights of stone steps. None of it is really interesting. It’s kind of like being in one of those ancient libraries that’s been there before even your own town.

A woman at the top of the third flight is what stops us. She has on a pointed hat, with a brown feather attached to it. At first glance her robes look black, but upon closer inspection, they turn out to be green.  Her stern face, keen eyes scanning over the crowd of children. I lean against the stone railing of the stairs, watching at the other kids push to the front. I roll my eyes. What are you pushing for?

Crossing my arms, I listen to the woman as she addresses the crowd.

“Welcome to Hogwarts.” She announces. “In a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your class mates.” She claps her hands. “But before you do that, you must be sorted into your houses.”

My brows furrow at that _. Houses? What houses?_ I suppress a sigh. I knew I should have read further into Hogwarts: A History. I got so damn tired that I feel asleep on the book. I should have never read Fantastic Beast first. The first thing I did was read the textbooks. _Idiot_. Of course, you finish the book on the history of the place you’ll be attending. _Who knows if they have some sort of blood rituals or **any** kind of rituals to begin with_. I could walk in here and they demand I cut off the toe of the queen or something.

“Great.” I shake my head.

The woman continues, ignorant to my struggles. “There is Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin.” She lists.

_Shit!_ I restrain the desire to slam my head into the stone. I didn’t know there was a division. What does it mean to get into a house? Is there a remedial house? Is there a test? _Why didn’t that bearded old twat tell me anything!_ I blow out a frustrated breath.

“Now while you’re here, your house will be like your family- “I scoff, a little too loudly. The woman lifts her brow at me before continuing. I duck my head, avoiding her gaze. “Your triumphs will earn you points. Any rule breaking, and you will lose points.” She scans the crowd, eyes briefly meeting mine. “At the end of the year, the house with the most points. Will be awarded the house cup.  The sorting ceremony will begin momentarily.” With that, she steps back walking down the hall.

As soon as she’s out of sight, the whole hall fills with chatter. I lean back, a sigh working my lips. I wish I could have brought a book or something. Now I’m going to have to wing it and hope I don’t get stuck with the idiots. A sudden thought comes to mind. _Why do you care?_ Just yesterday you were denying all of this. The voice whispers. _Why am I stressing?_ On the off chance that this is a dream and I somehow fell at the roller rink, I should at least make it worthwhile. Right?

_Denial is not just a river in Egypt_.

“Shut up.” I growl lowly.

“I heard Harry Potter is here.” Says a snobby voice.

“Yeah, yeah!” a voice agrees. “My brother saw him last year, a weird boy he is.”

“I hear that he has the scar on his forehead.” The voice whispers the next part. “He got it from you-know-who, ya know?”

_You-know-who?_

“I bet it’s all grotesque and manky!” someone chips in, voice dripping with disgust.

_Haven’t even started school yet and the vultures are out_. I tsk quietly. _It’s already turning out like regular school._ I slump my shoulders.

The door in front of us opens, revealing the woman from before.

“We’re ready for you now.” She calls.

The doors open by themselves as we follow after her, showing a long hall full of students sitting at tables. They all stare at us as we walk pass, some pointing or calling attention to the others. My palms sweat. _We have to take the test in front of everyone? That’s humiliating_.  I continue to follow, eyes turned to the ceiling. _Those candles are hanging in the air? What about the wax, wont it burn_? I narrow my eyes, watching as they sway back and forth.

The woman stops in from of a dusty old hat, sitting on a lone stool. I look at it in confusion _. It that all? A hat? How are we supposed to be sorted?_ Stepping on the higher ground, she tells the kids in front to stop.

“Now before we begin, professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words.” She turns, revealing a familiar old man.

My eyes widen. He’s dressed in expensive looking robes, a nice small hat atop his head. His eyes catch mine, sending a wink my way. _Sneaky old bastard_. I cross my arms. A displeased expression on my face.

Clearing his throat, he greets. “I have a few start of term notices I wish to announce to the first years. Please note that the dark forest is strictly forbidden to all students.” His eyes cut somewhere in the room. “Please stay away from the Black Lake, as the giant squid is quite antsy this time of year and will drown you.” My eyed widen. _There a freaking giant squid here!?_ “Thank you.” _That’s all your gonna say!?_

“This place is getting odder and odder.” I mumble.

“When I call your name, you will come up here and I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head and you shall be sorted into you hose for the next seven years.” The pointy hat lady says.

_WHAT?! My next SEVEN years depend on a freaking hat! What kind of drugs are they using over here?_

She looks at the list in her hand, reading off the first name. “Gregor Scott.”

A boy towards the back starts to move forward out of the group, stepping hesitantly up to the platform. He slowly walks over to the woman, sitting silently on the stool. I watch intently as she places the hat on his head. The hat seemingly comes to life.

“Right there.” _Holy shit_. “Okay, yes.” _It talks_. “Yes, I know the house for you.”

“GRYFFINDOR!” It hollers.

Loud clapping comes from the table directly behind us. Screams and shouts as they welcome the boy into their ranks.

“No _freaking_ way.” I whisper. “My life here depends on a _hat_.”

“Fitz Algrey.”

The next boy walks up, a swagger in his step. He struts onto the platform like he owns the place. The hat hollers before it even touches his head.

“SLYTHERIN!”

_Is that a good thing? I mean, he barely touched him_. I think as the table cheers.

“Lyra Russo.” I notice the was Dumbledore sits forward in his chair.

I slowly move from my spot among the crowd. _Okay, don’t screw this up_. I clench my fists tight. I confidently stride over to the stool. I will not show them my fear. I hold my chin high, avoiding the hundreds of eyes watching me. I can feel the interest stare of the bearded bastard. He must know something. I surmise.

Once that hat is placed on my head, a blanket of warmth fills me.

“Oh!” The hat gasps. “It’s been ages since I sat on the head of someone with this much power.” I feel it wiggle around on my head. “You are great! So strong.” The hat purrs.

“But there is so much darkness in this head of yours.” Murmurs filter through the crow as he says that. “So much cruelty.” The whispers become louder.

“There is a light though, however dim.” It remarks. “Just like your mother.”

I freeze.

“You have her temper.”

“…shut up.”

“Stern like your father.” It continues.

Rage bubbles in my core, coiling in my stomach.

“Shut up.” I growl.

“Perhaps your just like them in that way. Though your mother was always so quick to ang- “

It doesn’t get to finish, because its sailed through the air. Gasps filter throughout the room as it lands on the ground.

“I said SHUT UP!” I scream.

Knocking over the stool in my haste, I run from the hall. The door slams behind me as I dash off. I quickly wipe away the tears running down my cheeks, angry that they keep coming. I knew I shouldn’t have come here! I knew it! I take a left, not knowing where I’m going. I come to a staircase, similar to the one I took to get to the hall.  I wish he’d never come to get me. That I was still home, where life was boring.

My feet take me blindly, vision still blurred by my tears. Lifting my robes to wipe my face, I take note of the corridor I’m in. I trudge over to an opening, coming to a balcony, overlooking a courtyard. I gaze out farther, taking in the sights. I stare numbly at the expanse of dark forest.

“I hate this place.” I grumble.

“And why is that?”

I swing around, coming face to face with Dumbledore. A snarl forms on my face.

“What are you doing here?” I hiss.

“I am the Headmaster.” He says simply. “It’s a given that I’m present.”

I sigh, turning back to the dark sky.

“Why did you bring me here?” I ask vacantly.

“You are a witch. You must be with your kind.” He answers, voice soft with wisdom. “You are special.”

I scoff. “Don’t give me that shit!” I yell. “I don’t want to hear it! That I’m special, that I have a talent or potential for good. Because it’s all the bullshit you feed to these kids, so they come here. All shining with heart eyes and hope.” I scream, stomping up to him.

“Tha- “

“Don’t!” I jab his chest. “Don’t tell me a thing, because you know it’s true. You’re just setting them up to fail.”

“Why don’t you believe in magic?” Dumbledore ask suddenly, taking me off guard.

I step back, turning my eyes to the cobblestone. “Because there’s no such thing.” I answer.

He sighs. “What do you call all of this?” He gestures, waving his hands at the surrounding area.

“A psychotic break, brought on by stress.” I quip quickly.

“This is magic.” He says sternly. “Believe in it, soon it will mean the world to you.”

“Why do I have to?!” I snap. “Why? In the real world, there are not talking hats! No Diagon Alley’s! There are no goblins who keep banks! Or walls that disappear. And there especially is no school for magic!” I scream.

 “Because if magic existed …I would have my happy ending.” My voice cracks. “I would have someone to tell me they love me every night and morning. I would know what my parents faces look like, how their voices sound.” I point down the hall. “I wouldn’t have to learn things I should know from a smug little hat!”

“I would know their warmth.” My eyes turn to the sky. “I would know the feeling of completeness. Everything would be perfect, and I’d never be sad. Or lonely. Or mad all the time.” I wipe away the tears that have escaped. Looking back up at the Headmaster.

“So, no, I don’t believe in magic.” I clench my jaw tight, keeping in the sobs that want to break through. “Because nothing good ever came from magic.”

Strong arms wrap themselves around my shoulders. My breath hitches. They tighten, pulling me into a surprisingly strong body. “You belong here.” He whispers softly. “I know that you did not have a happy beginning. I know that you are filled with doubt and denial. That you think you are alone.” He speaks softly. “You are not alone. I will be here for you. Your ending is not even close, how do you know it won’t be happy?”

Swinging me around, he lays his hands on my shoulders. “Tell you what? If you feel at any moment that you absolutely hate this place.” He snaps his fingers. “Well I’ll turn myself into an old toad!” He smiles brightly. I smile at the old man’s antics. “Just try, for me? Please?”

I nod. It’s not like I can just up and leave anyway, I’m already here.

“Now we have to go back and get you sorted.” He cheers. “Their nearly done.”

Just as we’re about to turn, a blue blur cuts across the night sky, followed by loud prepubescent screams. My eye narrow as the blur disappears, followed by a crash. In the distance, the muffled yells and hollers follow.

“Was…that a…car?” I question in disbelief.

I hear a rough sigh. “I’ll take care of that after you get sorted.” He says, bringing a hand up to his face.

The walk back to the food hall is a silent one, Dumbledore no doubt trying to figure out what is going on with the blue car. Though it felt like a long time, Dumbledore and I were only talking for about ten minutes. I jump down the stairs, following the Headmaster’s long strides. I stop when we reach the hall, taking a deep breath. Dumbledore gives me a second before opening the door. Just as the door opens, a loud voice sounds.   

“SLYTHERIN!” followed by claps and cheers.

As soon as the door closes, a deafening silence falls over the hall. Dumbledore grabs my arm, pulling over to the front of the now short line. Only about five first years remain. I’m pulling all the way to the stool on the stage, where the woman from before holds that hat. Dumbledore takes the hat from her, standing behind the chair. Loud murmurs and whispers enter the silence as he does. He must not do this a lot.

“Lyra.” He gestures to the stool.

I shuffle over to the perch, sitting silently. The hat is then placed upon my head, just like before.

“I must say, I’ve been yelled at, but never thrown.” It remarks.

“I hope you’re not expecting an apology. If so, your sorely mistaken.” I reply bluntly.

“Fine.” It sighs. “I cannot choose a house for you.” He announces.

Another bout of gasps fills the area.

“Why not?” I ask curiously. 

“You are in a category of your own.” It states. “As cunning as a Slytherin! As brave as a Gryffindor! As intellectual as a Ravenclaw and as humble as a Hufflepuff! You fit into every house perfectly, I cannot choose a house for you, because you could just as easily rule them all.” It announces. “You, my dear are in a league of your own.” The hat states.

Whispers turn into loud mumbles. I groan. Great, now I can’t even be sorted by something freaking designed to sort! Why did I come here? I run my hand down my face.  I turn my head, looking to Dumbledore. His eyes are alight with wonder and curiosity. But as I peer deeper, I can’t help but notice apprehension _. What is he scared of?_

“You must choose.” He states simply.

_Hufflepuff._

_Gryffindor._

_Ravenclaw._

_Slytherin_.

I drop my gaze to my lap, mind searching. I ignore the daunting silence. Everyone is waiting, waiting for me to decide. The slow rhythmic thumping of my heart fills my head. What do I choose? This is my future. My fingers play with hem of my robes, flipping the pieces of fabric. Something slides down my wrist, weighing at the base of my thumb. My eyes lower, regarding the silver bracelet that I’d taken from the vault a few day’s prier.  I lock onto the symbol of the piece. _A…raven?_ I run my thumb over the bumpy surface. _Raven_.

_Raven…claw._

As though the sentient accessory has heard my thoughts, it shakes upon my head. It then bellows, screaming at the top of its…lungs?

“RAVENCLAW!”

“Wai-I didn’t choos- “Sadly, my voice is drowned out by the uproar that comes next. Loud boisterous voices raise from a table to the far left. All the students jumping up from their seats as they welcome me into open arms. I slide onto the bunch, forcing a smile onto my face. _This is going to be a long year_.

“Let the feast begin.”


	4. Strange Odd Studies

As it would turn out, Hogwarts isn’t as weird as I thought. It _weirder_. From the always moving staircases, with that one damn step that’s going to kill me one of these day. To the paintings that you literally jump into. There’s also the laughable number of ghosts, apparitions and poltergeists that wander the halls _every waking moment_. While walking into the bathroom, I nearly had a heart attack when Peeves, the resident trickster, jumped out from around the corner. It’s also an unspoken rule never to ask Nearly Headless Nick why he is called _Nearly_ Headless. Long story short, I spent that day upchucking all of my breakfast.

Other than the near heart attacks and utterly frustrating castle, Hogwarts is very much like a school in Britain. Minus the odd subjects which are, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, History of Magic, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, and Herbology. Because these are classes that are mandatory throughout their first five years of magical education. Then there’s flying, which I’m a little interested in, only because that thought of flying on a broom is just…I can’t even describe the image that comes to mind.

Something I found out about the Ravenclaw house, is that it is historically known for housing wise witches and wizards. The house founder, Rowena Ravenclaw, favored intelligence, wit and wisdom among all else, originality. The house, like the others, came with a set of colored robes, a tie and a scarf, and other winter clothes. Blue and bronze being the house colors. But unlike the other houses, to enter the Ravenclaw Tower, you must solve a riddle which changes every day.

The knocker has no mercy either, one girl sat outside for two hours trying to solve it. If you’re not prepared to answer, one learns to go in with a crowd of students.

The dorms are much like a university. One half of the tower is for the boys and the other is for the girls. Just in case the boys get any ideas, there is a spell on the staircase that prevents them from coming in. The rooms consist of four, four poster beds, fit with the Ravenclaw colors and a place to store your belongings. When I’d entered the room after dinner, I immediately went for the bed with the view of the Black Lake.  From this height and angle, once the moon rose, I would be enraptured by its beauty. every night I would sit down with a history book, letting the distant waves calm me.

The three other girls I’d be rooming with were, in a word, strange. The first was a second year, named Luna Lovegood. She isn’t weird per say, she’s just…openminded on a few things. Like how she talks about these things called ‘Nargles’. She’s nice and I don’t get why people on a few occasions have called her ‘Looney Lovegood’.

The second girl, a Cho Chang another second year, who speaks a little too quietly sometimes. She keeps to herself most days and doesn’t seem like someone who’d get in your business. I know virtually nothing about her, but that’s fine with me.

The last girl, Winter Remington, a fellow first year. She’s a bit of a tomboy and loves a sport called Quidditch. Which after asking what it was, turned out to be a pretty popular sport in the wizarding world. Like football or … futbol. I enjoyed our conversation very much.

In all, I liked my dormmates. Liked Hogwarts.

 

* * *

  **Charms**

“A wizard’s most rudimentary skill, is Levitation.” Says my charms teacher, Professor Flitwick, a stout old man.

 He stands atop a stack of old books, teaching above us, as the rest of the students and I, sit at long benches.

“That is the affinity to make objects fly.” He raises his arms. “Now do you have your feathers?” He looks around the room.

Some raise theirs partway, other a little too excited raise to the air in a grand show. I hardly even move to touch the damn thing; the man is two feet away from me.

“Now don’t forget the nice wrist we’ve been practicing.” He waves his wand. “Just swish and flick. Come now, everyone join in.”

I stare stupidly at the kids who actually do it. We’ve been practicing it for a week, I think I could do this blindfolded if he asked. Flitwick and the others practice the movement a few more times before telling us to make the feather float.

“Now enunciate, Wingardium Leviosa.” He says slowly, pronouncing each part. “Off you go then.”

I watch as all the kids swing their wands, completely ignoring the man’s teachings. I slide my wand from my holster, mimicking the _swish and flick_. I clear my throat, speaking strongly.

“ _Wingardium Leviosa_.” I point the tip of my wand at the lone fowl feather.

Like, well like, magic the feather lifts off the surface of the desk, floating high above the rest of the other children. I watch as it hovers until it stops at the ceiling. All the children have stopped, watching as it rose.

Flitwick looks over at me, smiling brightly. “Brilliant, Ms. Russo.” He preens. “On your first try, too.”

The rest of class kind of went on, since I was the only one to get my feather to stay flying, got to sit back and watch as the other students failed to perform it right. A few asked me for help, whining that they hadn’t done it right, to which I told them how to do it. But most could only get it to float for a few seconds then crash down.

 

* * *

  **Potions**

 

“There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class.” The loud slam of the classroom door alerts everyone, followed by a man with long black hair. He strides to the front of the class, not sparing a glance at anyone. “As such, I don’t expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion making.” He swings around, robe looking very much like a cape.

His black eyes survey the room, face wrought with condescension. “However, for those select few who possess the predisposition.” He speaks calmly, voice devoid of emotion of any sort. “I can teach you how to bewitch the mind, and ensnare the senses.” He slips off his coat, laying it on a chair beside him.

“I can tell you how to bottle fame and brew glory. Even put a stopper in death.” I lean forward, interest peeked. I’d heard that this class was difficult and many had failed it. I plan on acing it will flying colors.

His eyes stop on me, tilting his head, he narrows his eyes. “Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you surpass all of you peers before even starting your classes.”

I feel eyes fall on me. The heat of their stares making me uncomfortable, but I don’t show it. I keep my gaze on the man, Severus Snape, the potions master. A hot topic that just didn’t seem to die down was the Sorting Hat ceremony. The whole school had been there, heard the Hat’s words and predictions. I was a chosen one, as many had taken to calling me.

Winter told me that the whole school was whispering about me, about how I was like some boy named Harry Potter. Who I’m told has an interesting past. I didn’t ask on it, not liking the rumor mill, but I would be visiting the library to see if I could find anything on him.

“Ms. Russo.” He calls, a sinister smile on his face. “Another celebrity come to our school.” He continues.

“Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood.”

My eyes widen. He’s asking me a question? I clench my fists. Okay think, you know this! Flowers, Nigel loves flowers. On many occasions Nigel took me to his job, a flower shop in the city. Since I was his oldest charge, I spent a lot of time with him. He taught me all there was on flowers and nature, their names, meaning and cultural importance.

“I’m waiting.” He prods.

“One second.” I hold up my index finger.

With other hand, I start to jot down notes. The first thing I write is the word Asphodel. Asphodel is a type of Lily. I draw a line, writing the word lily. Now a Lily means ‘My regrets follow you to the grave.’ I draw a line to the word Wormwood. If I’m going by the universal term, Wormwood means ‘absence’ or bitter sorrow. If I combine that.

I raise my head, smiling in victory.

Snape sees this, eyes sharp he asks. “Do you quit?” he smirks, but its hollow.

“Opposite actually.” I quip back. The class murmurs at my tone. “It’s note a potion, but a saying in the language of flowers. The term is ‘I regret the lilies death.’” I state, smirking viscously. _Take that you greasy haired twat_.

Snape’s face remains impassive, but I can tell I got it right because he remains silent. He turns and starts the class, ignoring me for most of it. His angered eyes do land on me a few times, choosing to pick me for the most difficult questions. I’m still new to the world. the first question was familiar, but the other stuff he asked me went completely over my head. He’d smirk every time, stern face breaking as I stumbled.

“That’s twenty points from Ravenclaw.” He calls again.

Snape twirls around, back to the board. I rest my head on my chin, glaring at the back of his head. What kind of teacher takes joy from his student’s failure? I can’t believe I was interested in this, he’s a total dick! I tap my feet angrily until the end of class, grabbing my stuff, I head towards the exit.

“Ms. Russo?” I grit my teeth.

I turn around, facing the slimy man. A sly smile rises on his face.

“Welcome to Hogwarts.”

 

A permanent frown rests on my face until lunch, ruining my appetite. I push away my chicken, standing from the table. As I’m leaving, I glance over at the staff table, seeing the inquisitive face of Dumbledore. He tilts his head in question, bushy brows pulled together. I force a small smile, not wanting to worry him. A few days ago, he requested that I start visiting him in his office at least twice a week. I hadn’t gone yet, and I feared he would try to force me at some point. He returns it, eyes soft with compassion. _Yep, sooner or later_.

My eyes cut over to a blonde man sitting at the end of the table. I believe his name is Gilderoy Lockhart, he was at the bookshop in Diagon Alley. Apparently, he’s some big shot author that went on all these adventures. He doesn’t seem like he’s ever seen a dead body, or even killed someone. Honestly, I think he’s a charlatan, but he just confident enough for all the girls in the school to idolize him.

 Even Cho, normally quiet, went on and on about him for twenty minutes talking about his “Dazzling eyes.” He’s been appointed as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I’m not looking forward to such a class.

I stomp from the Great hall, mind set on the library. I’ve been to the library every day since I arrived at Hogwarts. The room is full of such history and silence that sometimes I find that I spend all hours until curfew just reading. I push through the big doors, accidently causing them to slam into the wall. I get a seething look from the librarian, Madam Pince. I send her an apologetic look.

I walk passed the tall shelves, sifting through the knowledgeable sections. Recently, I’d been reading up on the history of magic. My class with Professor Cuthbert Binns, having peeked my interest. The strange thing about the class is that it’s taught by a ghost. The wizard dropped dead a long time ago. He’d seemingly died in his sleep, and when the stuffy old coffin jockey woke he went right back to class to teach. I guess no one really wanted to bother him, so they continued to let him teach.

“Ah!” I smile, finding what I was looking for.

_History of Magic by Dricalin Mirts._

I sit down, flipping the book open. I immerse myself in the text, not really thinking of anything. Time flies by and before I know it, Madam Pince is dragging me out of the library with me yelling; “Five more minutes!” I trudge back up to Ravenclaw tower, eyes tired from hours of reading. When in my room, I note that the other girls are already asleep. Must have stayed longer then I realized. I hum.

I slip out of my robes, pulling on my sleep shirt and shorts. I walk over to Liro’s cage, petting his fur. The little fur ball was also asleep. I smile, whispering softly.

“Good night, Liro.”

I walk back to my bed, drawing the curtains to my bed. I lay back pulling my blankets over my head. With that done, I shut my eyes, drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

 


	5. Restricted Section

**Three Months Later**

**_Flying Lessons_ **

 

“As I said, there will be no flying outside of class. Have a nice day.” Yells, the rather masculine, Madam Hooch.

I sigh, lowering my broom to the ground. Flying lessons with Madam hooch have become so boring. Like other things at school, I’ve mastered broom riding. Ironically, it was like riding a bike, a bike that if you fall off of you could fall to your death, but a bike all the same. At the beginning, it was very fun and new. The feeling of flying is something almost everyone wants to do, and I was doing it. the wind through my hair and the free feeling it gave me were cool.

But that feeling soon began to wither and die, as I noticed two specific traits that made this particular activity very unappealing. To me, anyway. I learned that first, sitting on a broom for an hour isn’t good for you, because you can and will get splinters in places, splinters should not be. Then there is the fact that I am way ahead of all my peers, so I can’t even have fun with what I’m doing. Madam Hooch did suggest I take an interest in joining the Ravenclaw quidditch team, but I had to decline.

I wasn’t really expecting to be too into riding, I just wanted to do it for the feeling. I’ve seen how those kids play, and they’re not doing it for fun. The kids are dangerous! The slam hard into each other and have no regard for safety. Now I’m no stickler, but when I’m fifty or so feet in the air and your pushing me, I’m going to get scared. Or at the very least, I’m going to get you back.

“Class dismissed.” She calls.

I lift the broom, walking it back over to the racks. While walking through the hall, I chance upon a clock. Lunch time! I cheer inwardly. I hurry to the dormitory, changing out of my quidditch robes. Hastily moving around my bed and clothes, I decide to leave my robes. It’s not like I have to rush to class. I have a forty-minute break until I have to go to Potions. I groan just thinking about that damn class.

Walking out the door I start my trek to lunch. Other than Potions, I’m at the top of all my classes. Snape has a vendetta against me. All I did was answer one question and I’m on his hitlist. Though it is refreshing to know I’m not the only one. Its common knowledge that the potions master only treats his fellow Slytherin with respect. He treats everyone else like the dirt beneath his feet.

I’ve heard how he treats Harry Potter, the second year, the name is always coming out of student’s mouths. The more condensed version of his tortured past is that his parents were murdered by a wizard named Voldemort, Aka _You-know-who_. They were killed right in front of him, and before ole Voldy could kill Harry, he was killed by his own curse. One of the three known forbidden curses, The Killing Curse. He died, and Harry was left with a scar. No one knows how exactly he survived, hence the fame.

Then he was pondered off to his parents only living relatives and raised as a muggle. Which means a person without magic, _I looked it up_. Before he even arrived at Hogwarts he was known throughout the wizarding world as “The Boy Who Lived”, since surviving a killing curse is impossible. Now he attends the school with this big reputation as the boy who killed Voldemort, before he even realized he had magic.

_Must suck_. I sympathize with him. Everyone seemed to know his parents before he did. _At least he knows who they are_. I frown. Walking through the doors of the Great Hall, I sigh, breathing in the smell of all the mixtures of food. My eyes immediately find Dumbledore. I hadn’t talked to him much since he asked me to start visiting him. It’s not that I don’t want to, it just I have nothing to say and I don’t want him giving me that damn knowing face he gives whenever we’re in the same room.

I duck my head, avoiding his stare. I walk over to the Ravenclaw table, sitting at the very end. I hadn’t acquired any friends in my house. Yeah, I talked to people sometimes, but I wasn’t looking for it. I had Liro’s warmth and the calming chirps of Oden. Since I hardly ever sent mil, or received it. I just let Oden free most of the day, sometimes when I’m alone he’d visit me from the owlery on the other side of the castle.

I pile some small sandwiches onto my plate, grabbing a handful of chips. I reach for my goblet.

“Apple juice.” I speak into it.

The light brown liquid funnels into the empty cup. Cool. I smile. While eating, I notice a brown owl fly in, per the open window. Missing the trajectory of the table, it crashes into a bowl of chips, producing laughs from all around the room. _Poor thing_. Not at all hurt, the bird hops to its feet, dropping a letter from its beak.

“Weasley’s got a Howler!” A boy at the Gryffindor table yells.

My brows pull together.

_Howler?_

The redhead, pulls a red letter from his bird, watching as it flies away. I note that he’s sitting with the girl, Hermione granger, also known as “The brightest witch of her age.” Teachers had been saying that her title wasn’t as valid since my grades and quick wit were just as good as hers. She’d thrown me a few dirty looks in passing. To his right is the infamous Harry Potter, shoving mash into his mouth. _Can’t always be dignified, Harry_. I look over a few heads, seeing him rip open the latter. Like it was snatched from his grasp, the later slips from his grip, transforming into an angered face. Whoa. I breathe. The letter hovers over the table, then starts to scream out words.

“ _RONALD WEASLEY! HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR!”_ The boy, Ronald, jumps back at the loud shout. The letter gets closer to his face. _“I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! YOUR FATHER'S NOW FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK AND IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT!”_ The paper leans in, a threatening tint to it tone _. “IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME! —“_

The envelope then turns to the redheaded girl, Ginny, speaking to her softly. Like it didn’t just publicly embarrass her brother _. “Oh, and Ginny dear, congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud.”_

 The Howler then blows a raspberry at Ronald and shreds itself to pieces.

“Huh.” I breathe softly. “That’s why they call it a howler.” I swallow.

_I hope I never get one of those_.

Suddenly a bright flash of light blinds me. Black dots entering my vision as I try to blink away the shock. My hands hastily grab for the table in front of me, hoping that I don’t fall over in my seat. My eyes finally recover from the sudden flash.

In front of me stands the culprit. A small blonde boy wearing Gryffindor robes. He has a giant smile on his face and his bulky camera in his hands.

“You’re the Unsortable! I’m Colin Creevey, I’m a second year.” He shouts cheerily. “Wow, I saw you at the ceremony and that was awesome, you know how you would be like an awesome anything!”

The boy continues to blather on and on, drawing the eyes of the great hall his way. Not liking the eyes looking my way. I cut the boy off from his tirade.

“Hey!” I call. “Walk away, kid.” I wave.

Colin’s smile falls. “But I thought you would like to have a pic- “

I glare up at him, silver eyes brimming with fury. “Leave.”

The boy scurries away, camera in hand. I duck my head away from the many looks I get as I continue to finish my lunch.

After my meal, I head to the library, clutching my copy of _Hogwarts: A History book_. I sit down in the back, flipping it open. I’ve been reading up on a competition called the Triwizard Tournament.

“ _The Triwizard Tournament was a magical contest held between the three largest wizarding schools of Europe: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Durmstrang Institute, and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, each school being represented by one Champion._

_Selected Champions compete in three tasks — traditionally judged by the Headmasters or Headmistresses of the competing schools — designed to test magical ability, intelligence and courage. Champions competed for the honor and glory of winning the Tournament, for the Triwizard Cup, and a monetary prize. The first Tournament was held in sometime in the late 12th or 13th century._

_The Tournament was renowned for being extremely dangerous: champions have died while competing, and was discontinued after 1792, due to the high death toll.”_

I frown, looking over the names of the contestants _. Beauxbaton’s champion, Penelope Grindle. Durmstrang champion, Hark Mallory. Lastly, Hogwarts champion, Finnegan MacLowe_.

 My eyes widen _.  If there’s only three champions, how high can the death toll get_? I question, flipping to another page _._

 

“ _1792 Triwizard Tournament_

_The Triwizard Tournament that was held in 1792, one of the tasks involved catching a cockatrice. However, the beast went on a rampage and injured three of the judges, the Heads of Hogwarts, Beauxbaton’s and Durmstrang. The event was recorded in the book of Tournaments. The Tournament was cancelled after this incident, but several unsuccessful attempts have been made to resurrect it_ ”

“They’re trying to bring this back!” I hiss. “It was a massacre.” I clench my fingers together.

“They willingly sacrificed children.” I hastily flip through the pages marked for the despicable contest, coming to a new chapter.

 

Room of Requirement?

“ _The Room of Requirement, also known as the Come and Go Room, is a secret room within Hogwarts Castle, that only appears when a person is in great need of it._

_The room is thought to have some degree of sentience, because it transforms itself into whatever the witch or wizard needs it to be at that moment in time, although there are some limitations. For example, it cannot create food, as that is one of the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. It is believed that the room is Unplottable, as it does not appear on the shown on any maps of the castle_.”

“There’s a room that just disappears and reappears when it wants?” I raise a brow. _That’s cool_.

 

* * *

 

 

A little while later, I look up from the book, seeing that I don’t have much time before I have to go to Potions. Closing it, I stand from my seat, stretching my muscles. Time really flies. I sigh, feeling a bone in my back pop.

I bid a soft farewell to madam Pince as I’m leaving the library. I head to Ravenclaw tower, ready to grab my books for class. As I’m walking, I feel something squish under my foot. Looking down, I see the remains of a…slug? Why the hell is there a slug in the middle of the hallway? As I continue to walk, I note, there are a great many, leading down the hall. Looking at a clock attached to the wall I sigh. _I don’t have time for this._

I run the rest the way, quickly solving the knocker’s riddle. “What was born on a Monday and buried on a Sunday.”

To which I jokingly replied, “Snape’s manhood.” I could _feel_ the crickets sounding from the door. The answer was _Solomon Grundy_.

I make it to class with time to spare. Like usual, Snape comes in late, yelling about something. Before I can even say a word, he’s on me. Asking me questions he knows I don’t have the answers to. Most of the stuff he spouts aren’t even in the textbook we were tasked with getting, letting me know he’s just doing this to see me fail. I lose a total of fifty points and almost get a detention for rolling my eyes. The class has noticed the growing tension between us, because as soon as he calls on me, all of them quiet, not breathing a word. It won’t be too long before the proverbial straw breaks the camel’s back, and they can sense it. 

Snape and I have been going back and forth for the last three months. To the point where the mere thought of his hallway or his smug little face, lights a match only adding to the growing inferno of rage that has begun to swell inside of me. 

“That’s another twenty points.” He sounds in his annoyingly bland voice.

“Shove it up your ass, snake.” I murmur under my breath.

He snaps around so fast, eyes zeroing on me.

“What did you just say?”

I grit my teeth, eyes narrowing dangerously thin. _Heck it_. I stand from my seat, eyes piercing his. I lean forward, slamming my palms on the surface of the desk.

“You want to know what I said?” I smirk.

He rolls his eyes. “Are you daft? I just asked.” He sneers, voice dripping with contempt.

I ignore the insult, tilting my head. “I said…” I lean in, though I’m too far to really get in his face. “Shove it up your ass.” The class gasps. “You snake!” I hiss loudly.

You could hear a pin drop, that’s how silent the class gets. Everyone holding their breath to see how the vicious man will react. I can feel the blood rushing in my veins and my heart pounding against my ribs. I’m shaking in rage. _I haven’t let lose in a while, it’s been building up all this time_.

“That will be two hundred points from Ravenclaw.” He starts, tone hollow. “And a detention Ms. Russo.”

“Worth it.” I glare.

I slam my textbook close, backing away from my seat. I exit the row of seats heading for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He yells.

“Anywhere but here!” I shout over my shoulder.

The door slams hard behind me. In a rage fueled rampage, I stomp all the way to Dumbledore’s office, which is at the other side of the castle.  The walk gives me time to cool off, realizing that stomping out just made things a lot worse. I drop my head. Oh well, I won’t have to see him until Tuesday. I shrug.

When I reach the eagle statue outside of the headmaster’s office, I speak the password he gave me.

“Chocolate Beetles.”

A loud hum sounds as the eagle turns, revealing a hidden staircase. I slowly walk up the stone steps, starting to question why I came up to his office in the first place. I could have easily gone back to my dorm and vented to Liro, as I’d been doing for a while now.

I guess it would be nice to have some actual feedback. _Those black eyes give me absolutely nothing_. I shake my head, knocking on the door in front of me. before my knuckles touch the door, I take notice to the loud voices that sound from behind. Two voices talking. Well one is talking, and the other is yelling so loudly, I can almost hear it through the hardwood door.

 Slowly, as not to gain the attention of the rooms occupants, I push the door open, peaking inside the office. The voices become clearer.

“Albus, she couldn’t even be sorted by the Sorting Hat!” A loud accented voice yells. “That has never happened before. When I asked him after the ceremony, he told me that he hadn’t felt such power since _Him_.”

The familiar voice of Albus Dumbledore filters through the silence.

“Now Minerva, you know as well as I, that the Sorting Hat can only read so much.” His soft voice reasons.  “He was overexaggerating.”

Professor McGonagall releases a very unladylike snort. “When have you know that hat to lie? In his hundreds of years, he’s never found a child he could not sort!” she argues.

“How can you just sit there and be so calm about this?” The older woman walks up to his large desk. “She is not like Mr. Potter, Albus. She’s clever, stubborn and has doesn’t seem to like authority,”

I frown _. I’m very respectful._ I lean closer, pressing the full length of my body on the door, hoping to hear more. _At least I’m nice_.

“Minerva, I don’t understand what your trying to say.” Albus leans back in his seat.

“She’s ahead of all her other classmates. The professors are getting disgruntle.” She sighs. “She’s been here for three months and she’s already at the top of all her classes, even to a degree in Severus’ class and you know how they’ve been these last few days. Just last week in transfiguration, she turned a quill into a raven.”

“Yes.” The headmaster nods. “She is quite an exceptional girl.”

“I think that we could push her up to a more challenging year. Third year to be specific.” The transfiguration professor suggests.

My breath hitches, eyes widening. _They want to push me forward_. Sure, I could understand most of the stuff going on here than I could in my old school, but I don’t think I’m smart enough to be pushed forward. Can they even _do_ that here? My brows scrunch together in thought.

“You want me to uproot her from a familiar territory and just drop her in another year?” Albus raises a bushy brow. “That would be detrimental to her learning process.”

“I wasn’t suggesting we do it this year.” She shakes her head. “Before the next semester begins, she’ll be thirteen. I don’t understand why she was picked up so late. But she will be with children her own age, and it will be easier to keep an eye on both her and Mr. Potter.”

Albus seems to ponder on this, nodding at the women’s reasoning. “I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t think Albus, do.” McGonagall snaps. “Judging by who her parents were, I’m surprised you even started her out as a first year. She could just as easily start seventh year without a problem.”

My fingers clench at the mention of my parents. She even knows them? if only I could get a name, I’d find them somehow. Just a name. But what would I do when I do find them? I shake my head. I’ll figure that out when I get there.

“Because that would be feasible.” Dumbledore quips.

“Her lineage is a very important one Albus.” The woman hisses. “Her very own mother was- “

“Perhaps.” Albus cuts her off. “We should talk about this when we don’t have an audience.” He gestures to the door, which without my say so, opens wider.

_Damn!_

I straighten up, no sense in trying to hide. I lift my chin, walking further into the room. Mindful of the older witch’s gaze, I avoid it at all costs. I stop a few feet from the desk, swallowing roughly. Albus grins at me, eyes not angered by my obvious eavesdropping.

“You may go, Minerva.” Dumbledore dismisses the witch.

McGonagall huffs, stomping from the office. She was undoubtedly offended by the Headmaster’s dismissal.  The door slams behind her, communicating her anger. With the woman gone, I turn my gaze back to the man sitting in the chair before me.

“Why are you not in class, Ms. Russo?” Albus questions, disapproval in his tone. “I believe you have Potions right now.”

I roll my eyes, not even wanting to think of the slimy potions master. I throw myself into a chair sitting in front of the head masters desk, not even caring. I fold my arms, glaring at nothing.

“Then you know why I’m not in class.” I snipe harshly.

“Yes, I’ve heard from the others that you and Severus don’t have a particularly friendly relationship.” His soft voice states.

I scoff. “Not friendly is stretching it.” I sneer. “That man has had it out for me since I stepped into his class! And it’s not just me, he does it to everyone. Well except his precious Slytherin. He took a hundred points from a Hufflepuff girl for a getting the same wrong answer as one of his houses students.” I rant.

“Do you know how many points he took off the Slytherin? Five! Five bloody points. You could tell he didn’t even want to do that.” I slam my hand into the arm of my chair. “He’s showing such obvious favoritism that it’s sickening. Then when he teaches us things, he just has to throw snide comments at everyone. Especially me!” I shout the last part, anger from before coming back with force.

“He treats me like dirt Dumbledore.” I sigh. “And frankly, I’m tired of it. If I wanted this sort of abuse, I’d suffer through another one of those boring lectures Flitwick gives.” I slump in my chair.

Albus, whose been silent this whole time, opens his mouth. The same calming voice leaving his lips.

“I will have a talk with Severus, maybe see if he can tone it down a little.” He starts. “You should know that all the teachers here teach differently than the muggles you are used to.”

“I know.” I roll my eyes. “My old school definitely didn’t teach Alchemy.”

“Then you should also know that they have their own methods. Severus Snape is one of the best potions master this side of Britain and he willingly works here for me.” Albus informs.

“I get it, but does he have to be such a wanker?” I rest my chin on my palm, elbows on my thighs.

“He just doing his job, Ms. Russo.” He pauses. “If you think that is him being a ‘Wanker’, then you’re going to have to learn to ignore him like the rest of the students here.”

“Fine, fine.” I wave.

“This is the first time in months that you have visited me.” He announces, a frown tugging at his wrinkled face. I wince.

_Shit!_

“Why is that?”

I scratch behind my head. “It’s not that I didn’t want to talk to you or anything, it’s just…” I trail off trying to think. I stare down at my lap. “I’m not used to people asking me to do that. I never really know what to say when I thought about coming here.”

“But today you did?” Dumbledore states.

I nod. “Well I was just mad, and I wanted someone to scream at.” I gaze up. “You seemed like a better option. Between you and me, I think Liro is getting tired of my shit.” I smirk.

This pulls a laugh from the old man.

“I assure you, Ms. Russo, I won’t get tired of your ‘ _shit_ ’.”

I give him a wink. “You don’t know what flood gates you’ve opened. “I joke.

“Anytime you wish to talk, just come to my office like you did today.” He permits. “Or if you have a request of any sort.”

“Thanks.” I grin.

“Anytime.”

Toying with my fingers, look up to the man. “Now that you mention it, I have a request.”

“Oh?”

I nod. “Yeah.” I breathe out. “I was wondering if you could give me permission to check out books from the restricted section of the library.” I rush out, closing my eyes.

“You haven’t already taken books?” He questions, brow raised.

I shake my head. “I can’t get in there, Madam Pince watches it like a hawk.” I frown.

Albus smirks. “Yes, we had a few problems last year.” He informs. “We had to ensure that it didn’t happen again.”

“So?” I prod. “Can I?”

“Yes, I’m willing to permit this request.” I cheer. “Under one condition.” I frown.

“What?’ I ask curiously.

Dumbledore leans forward, eyes sharp. “You must send me the name of each book you wish to check out.”

“Why?”

“They’re restricted for a reason.” He tilts his head. “Some are cursed, have attained sentience, or just have dark magic attached to them.”

_That makes sense_. “Oh, okay. I can do that then.” I smile.

“Also, I would like you to visit me twice a week. As I asked.” Albus requests, leaning back into his chair, he twiddles his long beard. 

“Okay.” I stand from my chair, hearing the loud sound of the bell.

“Oh and Ms. Russo.” I look over my shoulder. “I trust you will not abuse this right?”

“Not at all, sir.” I shake my head.

 


End file.
